Tulsa City-County Library - Michael Cunninghamhttp://tulsalibrary.org/tags/michael-cunningham
enAdoring Michael Cunningham by Cindy Hulseyhttp://tulsalibrary.org/blog/adoring-michael-cunningham-cindy-hulsey
<div class="field field-name-field-news-image field-type-image field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><img typeof="foaf:Image" src="http://tulsalibrary.org/sites/default/files/styles/medium/public/images/blogs/chulsey/Cindy%20Headshot_1.jpg?itok=44r0_Iuw" width="180" height="220" alt="" /></div></div></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="content:encoded"> <p>I’m someone who believes that fiction can lead a person to Truth more than any other medium. Case in point: Several years ago Michael Cunningham, the author of <a href="http://tccl.bibliocommons.com/search?t=keyword&amp;q=hours+cunningham" title=" The Hours">The Hours</a> and several other beautiful, moody novels, was in Tulsa. I had read <a href="http://tccl.bibliocommons.com/search?t=keyword&amp;q=hours+cunningham" title=" The Hours">The Hours</a> twice and discussed it with my book group. I had also seen the movie version. The character of Laura Brown haunted me. She was wound so tightly and trying so hard to be perfect, but felt trapped and unfulfilled in her stifling role as a 1950s housewife and mother. Her life was drastically different from mine; I’m a happily married career woman with no children of my own. But there was something about Laura that pierced me to the core. I could feel her pain so deeply and was puzzled about why she spoke to me in such an intimate way.</p>
<p> While listening to Cunningham speak he said he had loosely based the character on his mother, who always kept a perfect house, dressed impeccably and was certain that by keeping total control of her domestic sphere she could keep away all of the bad stuff. This statement hit me like a ton of bricks, as I realized that’s why the character of Laura Brown resonated with me so deeply. I have a tendency to seek perfection (although I never get anywhere remotely close to it) in the futile hope that I too can keep the bad stuff away. But the truth is that you can't keep the bad stuff away. This was an extremely revelatory moment for me. It created a visceral reaction that resulted in tears and months of self-reflection and ultimate personal growth.</p>
<p>I expressed my appreciation to Cunningham for providing me with this personal insight through his exquisitely painful and haunting novel. I tried to make him understand how powerful words can be and that his ability to turn mere words into moments of Truth was nothing short of magical.</p>
<p>This is one reason reading is so important to me. It helps me navigate the world and understand my place in it. It enables me to understand and empathize with others. It makes me a better person. I’m now reading Cunningham’s new book <a href="http://tccl.bibliocommons.com/search?utf8=%E2%9C%93&amp;t=smart&amp;search_category=keyword&amp;q=snow+queen+cunningham&amp;commit=Search&amp;searchOpt=catalogue" title=" The Snow Queen">The Snow Queen</a>. I wonder what it will teach me.</p>
</div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-tags field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-inline clearfix"><div class="field-label">Tags:&nbsp;</div><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><a href="/tags/michael-cunningham" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Michael Cunningham</a></div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-blog-category field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><a href="/blog/reading-addict" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Reading Addict</a></div></div></div>Wed, 04 Jun 2014 22:44:41 +0000Cindy231382 at http://tulsalibrary.orghttp://tulsalibrary.org/blog/adoring-michael-cunningham-cindy-hulsey#commentsA Sad State by Rebecca Howardhttp://tulsalibrary.org/blog/sad-state-rebecca-howard
<div class="field field-name-field-news-image field-type-image field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><img typeof="foaf:Image" src="http://tulsalibrary.org/sites/default/files/styles/medium/public/images/blogs/chulsey/Rebecca%20Howard%20Headshot_4.JPG?itok=FeN2jJ3V" width="176" height="220" alt="" /></div></div></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="content:encoded"> <p>I think that Grumpy Cat may, in fact, be one of the great existential philosophers of our time. I suspect that he has his finger (paw?) on the pulse of joy. After all, things fall apart. Life is suffering. I’ve already lost about half of you, right?</p>
<p>People generally fall into two camps when it comes to sad books: those who love bittersweet, melancholy, and regretful novels and those who don’t. I’m decidedly in the first camp. I want a novel that breaks my heart. And while it’s breaking my heart, I want it to show me humanity in a new, surprising, or different way. I’ve been reading <a href="http://tccl.bibliocommons.com/item/show/1672915063_when_things_fall_apart" title=" When Things Fall Apart">When Things Fall Apart </a>by Buddhist nun Pema Chodron, and one of the many things it has helped me understand is my attraction to what you might call sad books. Chodron describes how it is in leaning into pain rather than running from it that we discover peace:</p>
<p>"We think that the point is to pass the test or to overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don’t really get solved. They come together and they fall apart… It’s just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy." (8) </p>
<p>Some of my favorite books have been called dark and depressing by others, but I’ve never experienced them as ONLY these things. Generally, I have also experienced them as beautiful, joyful, and even humorous. They present a fuller picture of what it means to be alive. Think of <a href="http://tccl.bibliocommons.com/search?t=smart&amp;search_category=keyword&amp;q=the+hours+michael+cunningham&amp;commit=Search&amp;searchOpt=catalogue" title=" The Hours">The Hours </a>by Michael Cunningham—a novel so deeply moving that it’s in a handful of titles which I reread religiously. The novel is about desperation, loss, and suicide, yes. But, it’s also a book that treats life and humanity with reverence and awe: </p>
<p>"There is just this for consolation: an hour here or there, when our lives seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything we've ever imagined, though everyone but children (and perhaps even they) knows these hours will inevitably be followed by others, far darker and more difficult. Still, we cherish the city, the morning, we hope, more than anything, for more. Heaven only knows why we love it so." (225-226) </p>
<p>This passage alone makes Cunningham deserving of his Pulitzer Prize. Don’t you think?</p>
<p>A more recent novel that shares these attributes is <a href="http://tccl.bibliocommons.com/search?t=smart&amp;search_category=keyword&amp;q=dual+inheritance+hershon&amp;commit=Search&amp;searchOpt=catalogue" title=" A Dual Inheritance">A Dual Inheritance </a>by Joanna Hershon. This is an exquisite literary debut about families, secrets, betrayals, class divisions, missed opportunities, and unrequited love. Spanning over 50 years and numerous geographies, the novel is the story of an unlikely friendship between two students, Hugh Shipley and Ed Cantowitz, who meet at Harvard in 1962. And while these two men seemingly have little in common, their bond will affect— in direct and indirect ways—the rest of their lives. The novel explores the constant push and pull of home and how the harder we try to erase our past, the stronger its power over us becomes. </p>
<p>A sad book? Yes, but also wonderful. </p>
<p>What about you? Are you a reader of sad novels? Why or why not?<br />
</p>
</div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-tags field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-inline clearfix"><div class="field-label">Tags:&nbsp;</div><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><a href="/tags/pema-chodron" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Pema Chodron</a></div><div class="field-item odd"><a href="/tags/michael-cunningham" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Michael Cunningham</a></div><div class="field-item even"><a href="/tags/joanna-hershon" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Joanna Hershon</a></div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-blog-category field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><a href="/blog/reading-addict" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Reading Addict</a></div></div></div>Tue, 08 Apr 2014 15:14:35 +0000Cindy160998 at http://tulsalibrary.orghttp://tulsalibrary.org/blog/sad-state-rebecca-howard#commentsArt of Conversation by Rebecca Howardhttp://tulsalibrary.org/blog/art-conversation-rebecca-howard
<div class="field field-name-field-news-image field-type-image field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><img typeof="foaf:Image" src="http://tulsalibrary.org/sites/default/files/styles/medium/public/images/blogs/chulsey/Rebecca%20Howard%20Headshot_1.JPG?itok=BfoysrFP" width="176" height="220" alt="" /></div></div></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="content:encoded"> <p>I discovered Emily Bronte in 1992. I wasn’t the first to discover her and I won’t be the last, but my initial reading of <a href="http://tccl.bibliocommons.com/search?t=title&amp;q=wuthering heights" title=" Wuthering Heights">Wuthering Heights </a>during my 17th year was as marvelous a discovery as any. See, <a href="http://tccl.bibliocommons.com/search?t=title&amp;q=wuthering heights" title=" Wuthering Heights">Wuthering Heights </a>was written for me. Sure, you’ve read it, too, but I daresay it’s a different book for me than it is for you and that’s why people continue to read it and why it will continue to generate discussion. C.S. Lewis probably expressed the reason that we read most eloquently and succinctly, “We read to know we are not alone.” </p>
<p>One of my most prized possessions is a Riverside Shakespeare with my brother’s name written on the inside upper left hand cover. He used it in college, and then loaned it to me for my Shakespeare class ten years later. Now that he is no longer with us, I love to imagine him reading the same scenes and turning through the same thin, crisp pages. He and I, along with 500 years worth of readers, are connected through this text. </p>
<p>I had a similar experience of connection when I traveled to England with the Trinity Episcopal choir and sang evensong service at the Ely Cathedral for a week. While processing to the choir, I noticed how the stone below me was worn into a pattern created by hundreds of singers before me. Using the same liturgical text and, in some cases, music I was able to participate in this centuries old conversation.</p>
<p>Art, music, and literature connect us to each other and, I would argue, to something transcendent (whatever that is or isn’t I will leave for you to ponder). Libraries have a vital part to play in facilitating these conversations. I recently read <a href="http://tccl.bibliocommons.com/search?t=title&amp;search_category=title&amp;q=goldfinch&amp;commit=Search&amp;searchOpt=catalogue" title=" The Goldfinch">The Goldfinch </a>by Donna Tartt and in the last 40 pages had my “library faith” reinvigorated. The novel’s title refers to a tiny 350-year-old <a href="http://www.wga.hu/html_m/f/fabritiu/carel/goldfinc.html" title="Link to image of The Goldfinch by Carel Fabritius">Dutch painting </a>that attracts, torments, and comforts the protagonist, Theo Decker. We don’t fully understand Theo’s obsession with the painting. Theo doesn’t quite grasp it himself, but we know that it sustains him through trauma, grief, loneliness, and numerous self-destructive behaviors. It is a line thrown out to him throughout his life.</p>
<p>Toward the end of the novel, Hobie, who has been Theo’s mentor and father-figure discusses what he calls “fateful objects”—those that, for whatever reason, captivate and inspire. These are the objects of art that “whisper from an alleyway. Psst, you. Hey Kid. Yes you... I was painted for you.” As I read this, I couldn’t help but think of the stories that have been fateful objects in my own life—whispering from the stacks—I was written for you. Just for you. Hobie goes on to explain that the reason we love a piece of art, an antique chair, or—I would add—a novel is not because it is universal, but because it is personal. </p>
<p>So, I’m going to continue saying that I discovered Emily Bronte, Louise Erdrich, Michael Cunningham, and Jeanette Winterson. And, if you happen to think these authors wrote something just for you, you’ll find no argument from me. </p>
<p> </p>
</div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-tags field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-inline clearfix"><div class="field-label">Tags:&nbsp;</div><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><a href="/tags/emily-bronte" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Emily Bronte</a></div><div class="field-item odd"><a href="/tags/cs-lewis" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">C.S. Lewis</a></div><div class="field-item even"><a href="/tags/donna-tartt" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Donna Tartt</a></div><div class="field-item odd"><a href="/tags/louise-erdrich" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Louise Erdrich</a></div><div class="field-item even"><a href="/tags/michael-cunningham" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Michael Cunningham</a></div><div class="field-item odd"><a href="/tags/jeanette-winterson" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Jeanette Winterson</a></div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-blog-category field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><a href="/blog/reading-addict" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Reading Addict</a></div></div></div>Wed, 22 Jan 2014 21:15:52 +0000Cindy8346 at http://tulsalibrary.orghttp://tulsalibrary.org/blog/art-conversation-rebecca-howard#commentsThe Past Is Never Dead by Rebecca Howardhttp://tulsalibrary.org/blog/past-never-dead-rebecca-howard
<div class="field field-name-field-news-image field-type-image field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><img typeof="foaf:Image" src="http://tulsalibrary.org/sites/default/files/styles/medium/public/blogfiles/Rebecca%20Howard%20Headshot.JPG?itok=hczjumMJ" width="176" height="220" alt="Photo of Rebecca Howard" /></div></div></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="content:encoded"> <p>Recently I watched the movie Lincoln, an epic film that was based in part on Doris Kearns Goodwin’s tome <a href="http://tccl.bibliocommons.com/search?t=keyword&amp;q=team of rivals" title=" Team of Rivals">Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln </a>and adapted for the screen by the brilliant Tony Kushner. It was not lost on me that this remarkable film’s script was created by the same Pulitzer Prize winning playwright responsible for<a href="http://tccl.bibliocommons.com/search?t=smart&amp;search_category=keyword&amp;q=angels+in+america&amp;commit=Search&amp;searchOpt=catalogue" title=" Angels in America"> Angels in America</a>. I got chills seeing Kushner’s name appear so boldly at the end of this film that was all about our ability to progress beyond our prejudices. Beautifully depicted in the film was the messy nature of progress. The 13th Amendment to the Constitution was anything but a pure endeavor; it was laden with compromise and backroom deals—in other words, politics. It seems entirely fitting that Kushner would write this screenplay; his ability to compress vast historical ground into something powerfully intimate is what made Angels in America so compelling. </p>
<p>World AIDS Day was December 1 and it is hard not to think of the terror and tragedy that was part of the early 1980s. Since the CDC reported the first case in 1981, over 640,000 with an AIDS diagnosis have died. It’s a staggering number, but even more profound is the personal tragedy each case represents. For those who lived in the eye of the epidemic, the trauma of burying so many friends is unthinkable. In an interview with POZ Michael Cunningham said of his novel <a href="http://tccl.bibliocommons.com/search?t=smart&amp;search_category=keyword&amp;q=hours+cunningham&amp;commit=Search&amp;searchOpt=catalogue" title=" The Hours">The Hours</a>, which won the 1998 Pulitzer Prize for fiction, “I’m a gay man who has lived through the epidemic for 15 years—and who will or won’t live through what’s still to come. And every book I write is, in some form, a gay book about the epidemic. It’s part of my consciousness. I’m infiltrated by it. I don’t think I could write anything else.” In an NPR interview with Cunningham, he describes the necessity of including HIV/AIDS in his 1990 novel<a href="http://tccl.bibliocommons.com/search?t=smart&amp;search_category=keyword&amp;q=home+at+the+end+of+the+world&amp;commit=Search&amp;searchOpt=catalogue" title=" A Home at the End of the World"> A Home at the End of the World</a>: “Oh, yeah. Writing a contemporary novel set in America without dealing with AIDS in some way would have been a little bit like, you know, setting a novel during World War II in London and not mentioning the blitz.”</p>
<p>It’s strange to think of an entire generation that has no memory of AIDS being the killer that it once was—that there are those for whom AIDS has had little personal impact. I recently read <a href="http://tccl.bibliocommons.com/item/show/2618694063_my_own_country" title=" My Own Country">My Own Country</a>, an autobiography of Abraham Verghese. Verghese was an infectious disease specialist in eastern Tennessee during the early years of the epidemic. Upon treating his first HIV patient, his career and life changed drastically. Verghese writes beautifully of the huge unknowns, frustrations, and hope that came from working in this field. He describes the alienation that he felt as a result of treating AIDS patients, and he honestly shares the fear that he and other dedicated medical professionals stared down in order to do their jobs with integrity. </p>
<p>Last Saturday evening the Circle Cinema screened a documentary chronicling this time in our country. How to Survive a Plague explores the work of two activist groups—ACT and TAG—who pushed for faster adoption of promising treatments and got lifesaving medications into the hands of patients with unprecedented speed. Again, the methods were not pure, but they resulted in desperately needed progress. The significance of this documentary and other forms of art that explore our past lies in our need to make meaning and to understand—to view global occurrences through a personal lens. These pieces allow us to see how our past has shaped the future, or as William Faulkner much more artfully wrote in <a href="http://tccl.bibliocommons.com/search?t=smart&amp;search_category=keyword&amp;q=requiem+for+a+nun&amp;commit=Search&amp;searchOpt=catalogue" title=" Requiem for a Nun">Requiem for a Nun</a>: “The past is never dead. It’s not even past.” </p>
<p> </p>
</div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-tags field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-inline clearfix"><div class="field-label">Tags:&nbsp;</div><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><a href="/tags/doris-kearns-goodwin" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Doris Kearns Goodwin</a></div><div class="field-item odd"><a href="/tags/tony-kushner" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Tony Kushner</a></div><div class="field-item even"><a href="/tags/michael-cunningham" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Michael Cunningham</a></div><div class="field-item odd"><a href="/tags/abraham-verghese" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Abraham Verghese</a></div></div></div><div class="field field-name-field-blog-category field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><a href="/blog/reading-addict" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Reading Addict</a></div></div></div>Tue, 04 Dec 2012 14:40:51 +0000Cindy1501 at http://tulsalibrary.orghttp://tulsalibrary.org/blog/past-never-dead-rebecca-howard#comments